My Cousins

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Drowning

Daniel Beck and Jared BeckAberdeen, Idaho Canal

Growing up in Aberdeen, Idaho as a
farm kid in a family of 11 prepared me for moments in life I had no idea I’d
ever face. The irrigation canal that ran
along the side of our property provided countless hours of pain, fun and
training. Being the seventh child of nine
meant that I learned a lot of things just by watching my older brothers and
sisters. From learning to ride a bike to
learning how to build a bike ramp. From learning how to shoot a gun to learning
how to hunt and fish. From learning how
to swim, to learning how to save a life.

When I was about five or six years
old, I ventured out to the canal bank to watch my brothers and sisters swim and
play “Alligator.” I didn’t know how to
swim but they all made it look easy. I’d
played in the water a lot, but it was usually at the reservoir where I could go
along the beach and control how deep the water was with a few gradual steps,
but this day, I really wanted to get into the canal with my brothers and
sisters. The canal had a relatively mild
current and it maintained a depth in the middle of about 3 ½ to 4 feet. Closer to the bank it was only about 2 feet
deep. I started by stepping off the
bank, gripping the long broad grass with both hands. The water was cool and refreshing, a contrast
to the hot dry summer air. I was about
10 feet upstream from where my siblings were playing. From where they always played. For years, season after season, the
boundaries within which we played remained the same. Over the years we dug at the muddy bottom to
make mud pies, throw handfuls of mud at each other, and for building up diving
platforms. The evidence of our playing
remains to this day more than 30 years later.
That section of the canal is a couple of feet deeper and a couple of
feet wider than the surrounding canal areas.
It looks like an overused watering hole for a herd of wildebeests. The area was well trampled. My first time in the canal would be the first
time I would learn about the abrupt change in depth in a matter of just one slippery
step.

The mud under my bare feet was soft
and squishing between my toes as I slowly walked and hopped with my chin in the
air, water up to my ears. The splashing
and screeching of my brothers and sisters made me want to wade downstream just
a touch more to be in the middle of the fun.
With one step, I felt the mud beneath me turn from soft and squishy to
hard and slippery with an abrupt downward, downstream slope. Both of my feet slipped out from under me, my
feet going up and forward while I sunk, bum first, underwater that was over my
head.

I started to panic, trying to grab
something, anything to pull myself up so that I could breath; there was nothing
to grab. I tried to get my feet
underneath me by trying to dig in and grip with my toes; it was too slick and
hard. I allowed myself to drop down into
a crouch and jumped from the bottom. My
head came out just long enough to take a breath before going under again. I repeated this for what seemed like an
eternity. I mistimed my jumping/breathing
sequence and took some water into my lungs.
I tried to yell for help but I only bobbed out of the water long enough for
a short gulp of air, and then back underwater I went. Suddenly I was lifted out of the water by my oldest
sibling Pollyanna. I coughed and burped
for a few minutes and then I started to cry.

I had nearly drowned in the very place that
meant so much fun and enjoyment. Pollyanna
did the best thing she could have done.
She comforted me for a minute then eased me right back into the
water…the shallow water. She showed me
how to get back to the bank and climb out by grabbing the grass. She did this with me a few times as my
confidence grew. Before long, I was
swimming. Not long after that, I was
running and jumping from the bank. It
seemed like overnight I was diving and swimming like a fish. My experience could have engrained a lifelong
fear of the water but Pollyanna’s intervention and teaching prevented
that. Had I not had that traumatizing
experience at all, I may have acquired a dangerous overconfidence. Because of that experience, to this day I
have a very healthy respect for the potential dangers of water with an equally
healthy level of confidence as a strong swimmer in these murky waters. But, I would be tested—more than once.

I swam in several swimming pools over
the years but the majority of my swimming experiences were in irrigation
canals, rivers and lakes. Often times
the depths were unknown and the waters were murky. I learned to ease into unknown waters, check
for debris or obstacles and then check the depth before any head first
diving. I spent a lot of time in
water. I love to swim and I grew to be
quite proud of a muscular physique with sun bronzed skin. I felt like a Greek God, and being seen in
swimming trunks almost felt like my duty.

While swimming at the lake, I would
challenge myself by swimming as far away from the shore as I dared, and then
swimming back. Then, I would do it
again, going further and further out, not reserving any energy for the swim
back. My brothers had taught me how to
float on my back nearly motionless. I would
use this method to rest and then go further.

My brothers, sisters, cousins and
buddies and I worked hard during the summer moving irrigation pipe or taking
care of livestock, as well as “picking rock,” by hand which meant removing
large rocks from the fields. Then, in
the heat of the day, we would reward ourselves by “taking a dip” in the nearest
water source we could find. One such
Saturday afternoon, three friends and I went to an area of the American Falls
Reservoir called, Big Hole, located directly east of Aberdeen, Idaho. The lake was just a couple of miles from my
home. Travis, John, Cain and I went to
Big Hole to do some cliff diving. (To
this day, I find it odd and disgraceful that my younger brother Daniel wasn’t
with us. He was my right hand man and he
and Cain were like conjoined twins. I
think he was working out of town that day with our brother-in-law.)

It was late in the summer and the
water level at the lake was dropping very fast.
This meant that the cliffs at Big Hole would be higher which meant more
fun. It was also a time to be extra
cautious because before long, the water would be too shallow to survive a
dive. We estimated that the highest
cliff was about 35-40 feet from the cliff top to the surface of the water, and
that this would likely be the last safe-ish diving for the season. The four of us jumped and dove several
times. After each dive, we climbed the
lava rock face, back to the top. The
rocks were sharp and jagged, so we wore our wrestling shoes for the climb
back. Shoes were great for stickers,
cactus, thorns, and rocks, but they definitely bogged you down for any real
distance swimming. For cliff diving, it
wasn’t a big deal because we were never more than about 20 feet from the rock
face.

Big Hole is a cove in the rocks. It sets back from the more open waters of the
lake and is shaped like a big round bowl, opening up in the east. We would dive from the south rim facing the
north rim approximately 200 feet across.
It was suggested that we swim across to the north side where some water
was caught in some lavas looking just like a Jacuzzi. Being the competitive types that we are, it
was quickly decided that we would race to the other side. Just before the countdown to go, Cain pulled
me aside. He told me that he wasn’t that
confident at swimming and he didn’t want to go.
Cain was always cautious and he could be quite shy so his reluctance
wasn’t alarming to me. I asked him if he
could “doggy paddle,” he said that he could.
I told him, I wouldn’t race. I’d
take time and swim alongside him. He
agreed. After John and Travis dove in and took off for the north rim, Cain and
I leisurely worked our way across.

Since John, Travis and I were going
to race, we had taken our shoes off, foregoing the comfort on the rocks for
swimming ability. I saw Cain take his
shoes off as well. What I didn’t see was
that he thought better of it and put them back on just before we went into the
water. To make matters worse, he left
the shoes untied. His shoes instantly
filled with water creating weight and drag.
Being a less experienced and less confident swimmer and having shoes
full of water would prove fatal in most cases.
I wish I’d seen Cain put his shoes back on. John and Travis were off in their sprint
across Big Hole while Cain and I sauntered along. Cain seemed a little too labored in his
efforts, but I stayed right beside him.
As we reached the midway point, I saw Cain looking around. He realized that the shore was just as far
away in every direction. We were in the
center of the bowl, about 100 feet from the closest dry land and about 20 feet
to the dark green bottom. Fighting the
water in his shoes, Cain was physically fatigued, realizing there was not a
bank nearby, panic was setting in for him.

The water was already cold, but I
could feel the temperature drop as we neared the center. Big Hole is fed by a series of springs. The deeper water and the springs bubbling up
cool the water drastically. I could feel
my muscles tightening and I wasn’t working half as hard as Cain. “Jared,” Cain cried out, “I’m not going to
make it!” I responded, “Sure you are. You’re ok. You’re doing great.” “No, Jared, Jared!” and down he went. I couldn’t believe it. I reached to grab him, expecting to pull him
up, instead he pulled me down! We were
both completely underwater and Cain was frantically grabbing for anything to
pull himself back up. That anything was
me. I kicked my feet hard, paddling to
stop our descent. I managed to get us
both above water but only briefly. On
the ground, I could have lifted Cain above my head unless he was punching and
kicking me, but in the water I had nothing to push from, only the propulsion of
my paddling feet.

John and Travis had just reached the north
rim. Their race was physically exerting through the same frigid waters. Just like when I was five years old in the
canal, I was only above water long enough to get my next breath, not long
enough to yell for help. I realized that without John and Travis helping, Cain
and I would die right there. In the brief moments when I came up for air, I
would see that they had their backs to us, clinging to the rocks. In order to
yell for help, I had to go against my instincts and let go of Cain. Even worse,
I’d have to swim a stroke away from him to keep him from pulling me down, but
without the help of my other two buddies, we weren’t going to make it. I pushed
Cain away and yelled, “Help! Now!” John and Travis looked back at me and I
yelled one more time, “HELP!” I then went underwater and found Cain, his head
already about three feet below the surface. The clubbing and clawing ensued but
I managed to get us both up for air a couple of times. I wasn’t able to see if John and Travis were
coming back, but I trusted that they were.

For a second, I pictured Cain’s mom
and dad getting the tragic news about their only child. I wouldn’t allow it. I thought about the day that Pollyanna pulled
me out of the canal. Even before I left
the water, I stopped my panic as soon as she lifted me up, so I could breathe. That’s it!
I just needed Cain to take a few good breaths so that he could feel the
calm and comfort of air in his lungs. I
had the trust that John and Travis were getting close. I took one last big breath and got below
Cain. He was facing me so I grabbed his
ribcage with both hands, extended my arms above my head and paddled my feet,
straight upward. At first, it worked,
Cain was almost completely relaxed with his head well above water.

Being cold, exhausted, and deprived
of air, and with lactic acid building up in my legs, my adrenalin was running
out. I knew from playing alligator with
my brothers and sisters that I could stay underwater much longer than the
initial signal that my lungs sent to my brain saying that it’s time to breath,
but I was absolutely spent. My legs were
slowing and I could feel us sinking again.
I realized that this would be my demise.
I was perfectly ok with it as long as John and Travis could get to Cain
in time. Then all at once, I couldn’t
kick my legs anymore. I tried but they
wouldn’t move. I had breathed out nearly
all of my air and my lungs were like a vacuum longing to suck in air. This was it.
We started dropping fast and then… Cain was moving away from me. His legs were limp as I felt the other two
sets of legs paddling away from me toward the north rim. My lungs were burning trying to involuntarily
breathe in what would have been nothing but green water. Using just my arms, I started swimming slowly
to the surface. I felt myself starting
to black out just as my face broke into the hot summer air. I gasped and went under again. Leaning forward and tucking my knees up to my
stomach I did a froglike kick and got another large breath of air, rolled to my
back and floated for what seemed like all afternoon. Eventually, I started a very slow and lazy
back stroke to the side where my three buddies were silently holding on to the
rocks. It took some time before we had
the strength to pull ourselves out of the water. We decided to walk back around Big Hole to
the truck rather than swim. Now Cain was
the lucky one, he had shoes on.

About 20 years later, I was working
as a Power County Sherriff Deputy in Southeast Idaho. I was a k9 handler. One hot Sunday afternoon,
my dog Spike had made a mess in the back of my patrol car. I bought some donuts and Mountain Dew to
trade a few jail inmates in return for their cleaning services. They were actually glad to do it.

I was recovering from recent kidney
surgery but I was cleared for work. This
day though, was particularly rough. I was bleeding and in a lot of pain. I was
the only patrolman on duty, but I really felt like I should be at home in bed.
I called the Lieutenant at home and told him that I was feeling very rough and
that I’d like to take some sick time for the remainder of my shift. He made a
few phone calls before calling me back with the bad news. We were always
understaffed as it was, but this day was worse. A couple of guys were out of
town on their days off and just wouldn’t be able to cover for me. He told me to
spend the rest of my shift “taking it easy” and being reactive as opposed to
proactive. I could type a couple reports, study the policy manual and let some
inmates clean dog poop out of my Dodge Charger. So, I bought the snacks for the
inmates and stood by chatting and joking with them in the enclosed Sally Port
while they washed the car inside and out. We were interrupted by the dispatcher
calling me on the radio, “2008, Power County…
Respond to Ramsey Road approximately one quarter mile west of Arbon
Valley Highway for a report of an adult male who went underwater in the canal
and hasn’t come back up.” “Twenty
oh-eight in route,” I replied over the radio.
I loaded Spike, the drug sniffing chocolate Labrador into his seat,
activated lights and siren, and took off.
I had about one mile of town, 12 miles of Interstate 86 and two miles of
Highway to navigate before a rescue attempt could begin. The Power County Ambulance was dispatched and
Deputy Williams, who was a Marine patrol deputy at the American Falls Reservoir
was also responding. The area where I
was headed was within the Fort Hall Indian Reservation, this meant more
available resources. While roaring down
the interstate, I asked dispatch to send search and rescue, Fort Hall Police,
Fort Hall EMT’s and the canal company. I
then asked her to check with Idaho State Police and department of Fish and Game
to see if either agency had officers closer to the scene than me. They did not.
Trying to navigate the Sunday afternoon Interstate traffic was
absolutely aggravating. A man’s life was
on the line and people wouldn’t move over to let me pass, yielding to my
emergency lights and siren. One girl
just stopped her car in the middle of the left lane right in front of me, a
line of tractor trailers in the lane to the right. I remember wishing that I had a bag of
baseballs to throw at her car.

When I arrived at the scene, I found
four Mexican men running up and down the canal bank, frantically looking into
the water. One man was probing the canal with a wooden ladder. Being just a
couple of miles from my own house, I was somewhat familiar with this canal. It
was much deeper, wider, and had a more swift current than the canal that I grew
up playing in. I knew that they had just dredged it out that spring, making the
sides a straight down drop as opposed to the gradual trough shape. I also knew
that if there was any chance at survival, he would have to get out now so that
CPR could begin. “Power County, Twenty oh-eight,” I called to dispatch. “Go ahead 2008.” “I’ll be out of radio contact, I’m going in
the water.” I stripped down and asked in Spanish where the man entered the
water. This was an amazing form of dialect for me since I don’t’ speak Spanish.
I speak a little Spanish, just enough to make me sound funny or to almost order
a meal at Tres Hermanos but at this call, I was conversing back and forth
without even thinking about it. They spoke no English and yet we all understood
each other perfectly! No doubt a higher power was assisting me just as He had
in prior critical incidents, and would several times again throughout my life
and especially my law enforcement career.

They showed me the exact spot where
he had entered the water and I marked it with a traffic cone. It wouldn’t make
any sense to search upstream from there so this gave me a starting point.
Drowning victims can be resuscitated and saved, but I knew that this man was
likely, currently dead, and I was about to go into the very water that killed
him. I quickly scanned the area for any likely power source that may have
electrified the water; I saw none. I scanned to look for an open water gate
channeling the water elsewhere or an irrigation pump that might suck me down; I
saw none. I scanned for any cattle fencing or other debris that might entangle
me; I saw none. Sticking with my
personal safety policy to never dive head first into unknown murky water, I
grabbed the grass at the edge of the bank and stepped in. The water was even deeper right at the edge
than I had anticipated and it was very cold.
I had been sweating and bleeding under my bullet proof vest, and the
stark contrast in temperature took my breath away. My feet went down stream and
came upward as my body sank, bum first, under water. I’d been here before, but
I was prepared. I realized that this was exactly what had happened to the
victim, who didn’t know how to swim. He likely breathed in water and sank very
quickly. I swam to the bottom and felt
around. The water was about eight feet
deep, cold and swift. I had to fight the
current to maintain my search grid. Help
started to arrive. The Power County Ambulance,
Fort Hall EMT’s and Deputy Williams. A passerby even assisted in the search,
but I was the only one in the water, searching the depths. After familiarizing
myself with the depth, I felt comfortable enough with the waterway to start
diving in. This was a much more
efficient way to get to the bottom of the canal, feel around, swim to the other
side, get out and do it again.

On about the fourth pass, I had a
hard to describe or explain sense that somebody was right beside me. I believed
that the victim was there, to my left. Again, the Good Lord above was guiding
my search efforts. I knew I’d swim right to him on the next pass. I got out for
a fresh breath of air and dove right back in. Just as I made it to the bottom-
center, I found him. He was laying on his back with his knees bent. I surfaced,
treading water facing the current, “I FOUND HIM,” I shouted. “Throw me a rope!”
Somebody on the bank threw a 10 foot long piece of blue bailing twine. While
paddling with my feet to stay afloat and to maintain my location, I quickly
tied a noose in one end of the twine, and then swam back to the bottom. The mud
was so stirred up that I couldn’t see anything underwater. The entire event was
done by feel. I grabbed his leg to put the noose over his foot. Boots! Untied leather work boots! They had filled
with water and dropped the non-swimmer to the bottom like a sack full of
potatoes. I secured the noose, grabbed him by the leg, pinning his foot between
my left arm and my chest and lunged toward the surface, side stroking with my
right arm and legs. I flung the loose end of the rope onto the bank and the
people there pulled while I pushed. He
was out of the water! The people on the bank looked quietly at the young man’s
lifeless body. Still in the water, I yelled at them “Get to work! Start CPR!”
One of the Power County EMT’s whom I won’t name, replied, “He’s been under for
30 minutes.” “I don’t care,” I yelled. “The
water is cold! We’re working him!” A Fort Hall EMT responded, “You all heard the
man, get to work!” They started chest compressions and rescue breathing. I jumped out of the water and ran to my
patrol car. “Power County, 2008, victim
has been pulled from the water and CPR is started. Cancel other responding search and rescue
units and send life flight to the following GPS coordinates…” I gave the location, and then started
clearing some aluminum pipe from the field to prepare a helicopter landing
zone. I laid out the landing zone then
checked the status of the victim. They told me that he wasn’t breathing on his
own but that he had a weak pulse. The victim was a 19 year old boy. He had three
younger brothers and a mom living in Mexico.
He had come to the United States to start a new life for his
impoverished family. He would send his
paychecks home so that as soon as there was enough money, his next brother would
come to Idaho to work. He worked for a
farmer that I know well. A friend of my
family from Aberdeen and my sister, Amy’s classmate.

I heard Life Flight before I saw it,
but it was soon well within view flying right towards us from Pocatello. This really got my hopes up. Here came the big guns! This young man would be in the E.R. in a few
minutes! But, Life Flight flew over and
kept going! I ran to my patrol car,
switched the radio to the life flight frequency and called them. “Life flight, this is Power County 2008, you
just passed the landing zone. Keep an
eye out for Power-lines to the North and the South, both running east to west,
no wind at the ground level.” “2008,
life fight, we see your landing zone, unfortunately we’ve been redirected to an
injury crash in Cassia County with a critical but more viable patient. Advanced
Life Support is headed your way by ground, ETA five minutes.

I realized that I was messy from the canal mud but I
was completely dry now, running around in almost nothing. Teams were still
taking turns with CPR so I took a moment to put my uniform back on. I started
moving emergency vehicles so that ALS could have direct access upon arrival.
ALS arrived like an emergency room on wheels. I saw them stick a long needle
into the boys’ chest, injecting medicine directly into his heart. I still had
hope. The victim looked a lot like one of my nephews. The braces on his teeth
amplified his youthful appearance. If he was my nephew or my son, I would want
ALL life saving measures to be attempted. He wasn’t my nephew or my son but the
treatment remained the same.

I walked out to the landing zone,
gathered up my cones and reconnected the aluminum irrigation pipe. I went back to check the status of the victim
and saw all of the medical personnel packing up their supplies. A pure white
sheet covered the boy’s body except for one foot with a piece of blue bailing
twine still tied to the ankle. I wasn’t ready to accept it. “What are you guys
doing?” The Fort Hall medic who initialized CPR put his arm around me. He had
some very uplifting and kind words for me that I will never forget. He said,
“Deputy Beck, what you did here was simply amazing. When I first saw you
pulling him out of the water and shouting orders for us to start CPR, I thought
you were a family member of the victim. You are truly passionate and it was
exactly what we all needed to see. You took complete control of the scene and
guided and directed everybody in a professional yet very firm manner. Ultimately,
we were just too late.” He continued, “Any chance that this young man had at
survival, YOU gave him. Even though he didn’t make it, he and his family are
blessed for having you as the responding unit. I doubt that most officers would
have dove in and started searching for someone who they didn’t see go under
with their own eyes. Secondary to trying to save the life is trying to find the
body. Drowning and staying underwater, lost is never a good thing for a family
to have to go through, on top of the death, they have to deal with the search
for the remains and the water is never good to those remains. Because of you
though, this family will have the closure of seeing him soon if they so wish.
Thank you for your hard work and example to all of the first responders here.”

The farm employer and family friend,
Marty, was there now. It was a tragic
and somber time. Marty and I stood quietly
watching the canal water passing by at our feet. “Marty,” I said, “look at the water. On a day like today, it just looks so
inviting and safe. We both grew up
swimming in water just like this.” “I
was just thinking the same thing,” Marty replied.

You brought back memories of growing up in Aberdeen and of your wonderful family. Your family was always so close and had so much fun together. I loved your family and your parents were awesome. You have a real talent for writing. I cried at the end as well. I really wanted you to say that he had made it, but God knows what is best. Thanks for sharing your memories.

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